Throwback Monday, Birthday Memories

 Today is my birthday. No big celebrations planned, but my family has made it special for me all the same. After I get past the number, I don't feel much older than I did years ago. However, perhaps I am a little wiser and more content.

To celebrate on my blog, I'm going to rerun a post I did in June 2022 about birthday memories from when I was a young child. Here it is.

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Memories

One of my recent StoryWorth prompts was, "What Were Birthdays Like When You Were A Child?" For the prompt, I wrote about birthday traditions from my childhood and how they varied as I got older. Then I sent a draft to my sisters, complete with a picture from my 6th birthday party. I often send drafts of the prompts to them to get comments about what they remember and sometimes to clarify things. This usually leads to interesting discussions and reminiscing.

After reviewing what I had sent, my oldest sister commented that the picture was not from my 6th birthday but more like my 4th. She is six years older than I am, so she often has clearer memories of things than I do from the early years. However, I told her that I remember this birthday very clearly because that was when I got a Bible with my name on it, and Mother didn't give us Bibles until we could read. I was not reading at four. Then another sister chimed in and said that four made sense to her. I was starting to get irritated because they didn't agree with me. This was not a fuzzy memory as some things were. It was very clear to me. I responded and said the picture was labeled on the back in Mother's handwriting, and it said, "June's 6th birthday." The oldest sister said that wasn't right if you looked at the clues in the picture's background; it looked like we hadn't lived in this particular house for very long because of the sparseness of furniture. I couldn't believe that she was persisting with her line of thinking after all I said. 

The next thing I did was get the picture out to scan the back of it and send proof that I was right. And you know what I found? I found it was my handwriting on the back of the picture, not my mother's. When I looked at the picture more carefully, and one of my 5th birthday, I had to agree that it was when I turned four that I got the Bible. 

How could I be so sure but be so wrong? I had a clear mental image of my mother's labeling on the back, and I thought I remembered the event so well. This points out that our memories are just memories, not necessarily an accurate depiction of what really happened. In this case, I think what I had done was combine my "memories" with labels from other pictures. And over the years, I reinforced my confusion until I was sure of the "facts."

There have been many studies about the accuracy of memories, and they have concluded that there can be problems. In general, the more sensory clues associated with the memory, the more likely it is to be accurate. However, a person can totally believe what they "remember" is true. Not necessarily that they were lying when facts prove them wrong. What does all of this mean? Well, not much in my case. Whether I was four or six when I got my Bible is of no consequence. But in serious issues such as trials or hearings, the complexity of memories should be considered.

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Until next time...

Thankful Sunday, May 17, 2026

 I am thankful for flowers and the memories they bring.

As I was walking around the yard yesterday, I realized that many of the flowers I saw have a special person associated with them. 

This rose bush was a retirement gift from a dear friend.

These Siberian irises are from our previous house. I gave some to a friend, and years later, when we moved, she gave me some back for my new house.

These irises came from my aunt's yard. 

These helibore came from a friend, whom I met at the library. 

These irises came from Ward's grandmother's yard.

This rhododendron was a gift in memory of my mother. It is West Virginia's state flower, and it blooms in what was her favorite color.

So for these beautiful flowers and the special memories they bring, I am thankful.

Until next time...

Making Memories

First, let me say that I am going to complain about something that has no consequence and is not a problem. But it bugs me anyway.

Every time someone says that they are going to make memories by doing something or being somewhere, it sounds wrong to me. It sounds like they are thinking more about the future than the present. Of course, we all plan for a Big Trip, Big Birthday, etc. that we hope will be memorable, but making memories has crept into everywhere and every day. As we all know, memories, especially good ones, can come from the most mundane things. As I have been writing about a different topic every week for StoryWorth, this has become even more evident. For example, when writing about the kitchen from my youth, I remembered fondly soaking the labels off of cans and making puzzles out of them. This all came from my imagination and was not a special setup from my parents. They didn't need to give me a grand kitchen or special toys to make a memory for me.

I think the widespread use of the phrase make memories is a fairly recent phenomenon. I don't know, but I think it has stemmed from the explosion of social media sites to share things. This has changed the way we do things. For example, I remember a trip to Disney World where many people were spending so much time taking pictures that they didn't see or enjoy what they were supposedly experiencing. They spent much of their time ignoring what they had paid a lot of money to see. The mindset of how something will look on social media has crept into everyday life to the point that we need to manipulate every situation as one that will make memories. 

I would like to say that I am totally immune to the social media explosion, but I'm not, as evidenced by this blog. I usually try to take a few pictures when we're on an outing, but I like to think that I am following one of my favorite sayings, "Everything in moderation." This brings me to the point that I have found what is comfortable to me in balancing the present and future (and recording it), and I should let everyone else find their comfort zone and not worry about it. But the phrase, making memories still bugs me.

Memories

 One of my recent StoryWorth prompts was, "What Were Birthdays Like When You Were A Child?" For the prompt, I wrote about birthday traditions from my childhood and how they varied as I got older. Then I sent a draft to my sisters, complete with a picture from my 6th birthday party. I often send drafts of the prompts to them to get comments about what they remember and sometimes to clarify things. This usually leads to interesting discussions and reminiscing.

After reviewing what I had sent, my oldest sister commented that the picture was not from my 6th birthday but more like my 4th. She is six years older than I am, so she often has clearer memories of things than I do from the early years. However, I told her that I remember this birthday very clearly because that was when I got a Bible with my name on it, and Mother didn't give us Bibles until we could read. I was not reading at four. Then another sister chimed in and said that four made sense to her. I was starting to get irritated because they didn't agree with me. This was not a fuzzy memory as some things were. It was very clear to me. I responded and said the picture was labeled on the back in Mother's handwriting, and it said, "June's 6th birthday." The oldest sister said that wasn't right if you looked at the clues in the picture's background; it looked like we hadn't lived in this particular house for very long because of the sparseness of furniture. I couldn't believe that she was persisting with her line of thinking after all I said. 

The next thing I did was get the picture out to scan the back of it and send proof that I was right. And you know what I found? I found it was my handwriting on the back of the picture, not my mother's. When I looked at the picture more carefully, and one of my 5th birthday, I had to agree that it was when I turned four that I got the Bible. 

How could I be so sure but be so wrong? I had a clear mental image of my mother's labeling on the back, and I thought I remembered the event so well. This points out that our memories are just memories, not necessarily an accurate depiction of what really happened. In this case, I think what I had done was combine my "memories" with labels from other pictures. And over the years, I reinforced my confusion until I was sure of the "facts."

There have been many studies about the accuracy of memories, and they have concluded that there can be problems. In general, the more sensory clues associated with the memory, the more likely it is to be accurate. However, a person can totally believe what they "remember" is true. Not necessarily that they were lying when facts prove them wrong. What does all of this mean? Well, not much in my case. Whether I was four or six when I got my Bible is of no consequence. But in serious issues such as trials or hearings, the complexity of memories should be considered.